


Join me under the fairy light stars

by stjarna



Series: AoS Advent 2018 [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: All mistakes are my own, F/M, Fluff, Prompt: Light, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, aos advent 2018, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Fitzsimmons fluff set between S3 and 4.





	Join me under the fairy light stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilsciencequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/gifts).



> For my twin separated through time and space, @lilsciencequeen. Happy birthday, you wonderful human being :)
> 
> Thanks to @agl03 for the prompt inspiration.
> 
> Banner by me.

Jemma rolled her shoulders back, trying to loosen some of the tension in her muscles. The preparatory meeting with Director Mace had been as grueling as she’d anticipated. She’d been relieved when Burrows had suggested that she wouldn’t be needed for the actual press conference, though part of her was nervous that the Director might improvise rather than follow her carefully prepared flashcards.

She stopped in front of her bunk, punching in her key code and waiting for the entrance to unlock. She pressed the handle and tried opening the door, when her ears picked up stumbling footsteps, panicked shouts of “No, no, no, no, no,” followed by the door being pushed shut in front of her face.

Jemma stared in confusion at the brown surface in front of her, her hand still on the handle. She tried pushing it down and opening the door, but was confronted with resistance.

“Fitz?” she asked, half confused, half annoyed.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she heard his muffled voice, followed by a loud screeching sound as if furniture was being dragged across the floor. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? These are _my_ quarters!” Jemma yanked a few more times on the handle, trying to push against the heavy door with her shoulder, but it wouldn’t even budge anymore. “Did you just pull my dresser in front of the door?”

“You’re supposed to be at the press conference,” Fitz replied, seemingly shuffling around her room.

“Burrows let me out of it,” Jemma growled, pushing down the handle a few more times in vain. “Fitz, you open the door right now! It’s been a long day. I’m not in the mood.”

“Just one—” Fitz muttered inside, clearly distracted by whatever he was rushing to finish inside. “I’ll be right—Give me—”

“Leopold James Fitz,” Jemma slammed her palm against the door in quick succession. “Now!”

“Alright, okay,” Fitz replied hurriedly.

Finally, Jemma heard the sound of her dresser being pushed back into its rightful spot. As soon as she was relatively certain that the door was no longer blocked, Jemma angrily swung the door open. “What the hell are you—?”

She froze mid-word, her hand holding on to the door handle, her gaze drawn to the fairy lights strung up on her ceiling. Slowly her eyes wandered from the ceiling to the checkered red-and-white blanket covering her bed, the wicker basket in its center. She let go off the door, turning to Fitz, who stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, a sheepish half-smile adorning his lips.

He lifted his shoulders, apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be back so early.”

Jemma relaxed, unable to keep a smile from flashing across her face. She looked back at her room. “What is all this?” she asked, softly.

Through the corners of her eyes she noticed Fitz stepping closer. “Picnic under the stars.”

Jemma chuckled quietly. She looked back at Fitz, the fairy lights reflecting in his blue irises. “But why?”

Fitz shrugged. “‘Cause we haven’t had a chance to get off base in awhile. But it’s late December, so picnic outside seemed a bit bonkers.”

Jemma’s lips pulled into a wide smile. She wrapped her arms around Fitz’s neck, getting up on her toes to kiss him.

“Plus,” Fitz said quietly, his hands resting on Jemma’s hips, his eyes sparkling with mysterious mischief, “I wanted to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Jemma asked, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Fitz reached for a paper on Jemma’s dresser, holding it in front of her face. “Our application for cohabitation got approved.”

Jemma gasped, ripping the sheet from Fitz’s hand, her eyes flying across the words to get confirmation. “It got approved already?” she muttered in disbelief. “I thought it would take months.”

Fitz laughed quietly, lifting his shoulders to his ears. “I pulled some strings to speed things up.”

Jemma drew in a surprised breath. “How?”

Fitz smirked mischievously, scratching his throat. “You’re not the only one on good terms with our Director.” He ticked his head to the side. “He _really_ liked the designs I drew up for his new suit.”

Jemma pursed her lips, wrapping her arms back around Fitz’s neck, the approved cohabitation application slowly sailing to the ground behind his back. “I’m impressed, Dr. Fitz.”

He pulled her closer, his blue irises gazing at her with love and longing. “Ready to let me move in here?”

“Anytime,” Jemma whispered, before kissing him.

“Mmm,” Fitz hummed against her lips, “Good, because I already moved some of my clothes into your closet.”

Jemma dropped her head back, laughing out loud. She combed her fingers through his hair, beaming at him. “How about we have that picnic now?”

Fitz nodded silently, a soft smile playing on his lips, before he leaned closer, kissing her tenderly.


End file.
